


Melodies & Memories

by WichitaRed



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:18:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1406287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WichitaRed/pseuds/WichitaRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You mean we three women shall be alone with you three men?"  Asks one traveler. The weather has more then the road a little icy. Can a silver tongue cure this situation?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melodies & Memories

The stagecoach rocked like a hawk caught in a turbulent down draft, fighting the ice-rutted road like its very existence depended on each mile it covered. Yet truly, it was the coach’s five inhabitants, who depended on each mile gained. 

Inside the stagecoach was silent, murky, and dingy as a storeroom. The leather curtains had been battened down tight against the frigid, knifelike elements howling outside. In the rear seat, three women clung to each other, both for want of warmth and to retain their upright positions. Across from them rode Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes, braced just as tightly into their own seat, except they were periodically exchanging strained glances. Having spent many, long years in Wyoming, they were fully aware of how deadly a breakdown could be. As obviously, too, did the driver; if anything could be judged by the rough talk, he cursed down his six-horse team, as if his very words could keep the animals going. Suddenly, the coach lurched, its large sunflower yellow wheels grinding, slipping, the whole rig sliding as the horses squealed fearfully in their traces. The slide stopped with a clear-cut twist and jerk. 

Heyes warmed up his large, charming grin and licking his lips, stated quite calmly, “No need to fret.”

“We should have stayed in Cody,” the little brunette, seated in the middle, answered through chattering teeth. 

“Where’re you headed?” Kid asked, much more cheerfully than he felt. The coach was on the move once more, tackling the hill. For every segment of ground it gained, he could feel the wheels slipping backward just a bit. He badly wanted to lookout to see if they were about to crash to their deaths or not. 

The trio across from them, shared a look of such confidentiality, Curry and Heyes couldn’t help sharing one of their own in reply. When the same little brunette, leaned forward, “I apologize for what I am sure you take as rudeness, however, we do not really know either of you.”

Before she could say more, the first of the two blondes, added in, “We do not believe it is prudent to share our itinerary with men, we are not familiar with.”

The brunette smiled and Heyes couldn’t help but think how very lupine she looked with her perfectly white, strong teeth. 

The horses were squealing again, the coach sliding backwards with an eerie slowness, and the three women pulled tighter together, their eyes glistening in their pale, pale faces. 

“My name,” Heyes tipped his black hat, “is Russell Graystone, but you can call me Russ.” He smiled, laying a hand on Curry’s shoulder, “And this is my pal, Mickey O’Toole.”

Curry’s nose wrinkled, but he smiled anyways, “Good to meet ya three. We’re headed to Cheyenne, meetin’ up with some pals there.”  
“That we are,” Heyes said, holding onto his broad, charming smile, “heading on to the Dakotas for some buffalo hunting; heard it was an adventure not to be missed. So, now who might you three be?”

The tiny, dark-haired woman’s mouth quirked, then frowned, and in the end she held out her hand cordially, “I am Penelope Tingly and these are my closest friends, Amelia McCarthy and Elaina Jones. We plan to board a train for Denver once we reach Cheyenne.” 

The stagecoach, lunged, bucking like a two-year-old stallion, throwing Penelope back to crash against Elaina, who giggled nervously. “Do you think we shall survive, Mr. O’Toole?”

Kid Curry grinned back into the blue eyes appraising him, feeling the steady, hobbled, rock of the coach moving up the hill, and said with a wink, “I do believe we will.” 

Once the vehicle leveled out on the summit, they could hear the driver whoaing the team to a stop. The coach quivered and stilled. It felt marvelous to be still; each traveler released a pent-up sigh, and hearing each other, smiled. 

“Hello inside,” the driver hollered from his raised seat. 

Kid pointed at Heyes. Heyes pointed back. Kid shook his head, casually laying a hand on his Colt. Heyes nodded and stood, “Excuse me, Ladies.”

Wind rushed in when he opened the door and clinging tightly to it, Heyes jumped, stumbled out into the blowing snow, and tossed his hat back inside. He slammed the door closed. 

“Yes, Driver.”

“Chuck.”

“Yes, Chuck,” he answered with more than a hint of sarcasm. 

“The team’s played out.” He pointed ahead; Heyes could see the twisted, steep pass, nestled below the low-hanging snow clouds. “Don’t rightly think they’ll make it. ‘Specially if’n them clouds tear open.”

“How far to the relay station?” Heyes yelled over the wind, turning up the collar of his coat. 

“Top of the trail,” Chuck shrugged and shook his head. “They’s just played out.”

“What are your thoughts?”

“There’s a left-behind cabin, down there, where the trail begins.”

Heyes nodded, stamping his feet in the snow. 

“Think we ought to pull in for the night. . .” Chuck looked directly into Heyes’ face and tilted his head toward the coach. 

“Thinking the ladies might protest?” 

Chuck nodded. 

“I think they should appreciate not being bogged down in a snowstorm, or worse over-turned on slippery slope. You know the route, you know the animals, you do what is best, Chuck. And me and my partner will back your move.”

Chuck smiled and it reached all the way to his squinted up eyes. 

Slapping the side of the driver’s raised, box seat, Heyes opened the coach door, and nodding to Kid, he climbed in. Retaking his seat, he smiled to the women, “We’re going to be taking a layover at a cabin real soon.”

The women smiled, tittered, and sunk into each other happily. 

“What’s up?” Curry asked. 

“The next pass is steep and already covered in ice, and its beginning to snow with real gusto out there.”

Curry nodded. 

“Chuck, the driver, says the horses won’t make it.”

“Hmm,” Curry grunted. “It ain’t the relay station, is it?”

Heyes shook his head. 

“What do you mean?” Elaina squawked, her tones as uncultivated as an Army mule-team driver. 

Both men’s eyebrows shot up and Heyes coughed, “Uh, we don’t understand your question, Ma’am?”

Penelope’s eyes flicked upwards and, with a shake of her head, she took command, “What does Mr. O’Toole mean by saying this stopover will not be at the relay station?”

“Oh,” Heyes uttered, coming as close to a blush as was possible with him. “Just that we won’t have anybody there to assist us.”

“Probably, not much in the way of dinner, either,” put in Kid. 

“But it’s better than winding up in the bottom of a ravine,” Heyes finished, bracing himself as the coach began its jerky, drifting, sliding trip down. 

Penelope frowned tightly, her almond shaped eyes narrowing, “What you are saying, is we three shall be alone with you three men.”

“’Fraid so, Penelope,” Kid replied. She hit him with such a displeased glare, Kid drew back, “Uhm, apologize, Ma’am.” 

The three women fell to glowering at Curry and Heyes with such intensity, the pair of them leaned back, pulled their hats over their faces and feigned sleep until they felt the coach swerve, pulling into what had to be the path to the cabin. 

Curry was first up and, with one look at the sulking women, leapt into the snow, “I’ll go make sure it’s safe.”

Heyes followed him. Once out of earshot, he said, “It’s going to be a long, long night. Think I will help Chuck with the team.”

Kid nodded, tromping toward the cabin. But in a few steps, he rushed back, “What’s your name again?”

“Russell Graystone.”

“Be easier if you’d use the same aliases.”

“What fun would that be?”

“Just easier, Russ,” Kid grumped, trudging off again.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The door of the cabin was swelled shut and Curry had to lay his shoulder into it before, with an obstinate creak, it swung open. Pulling his gun, he edged in, pleased to find the place dry and not the den of any animal. In short order, he had a fire going and found humor in that this must have been the home of a buffalo hunter for the walls were covered with tanned hides. Pulling them down, he took the furs outside to beat the dust and whatever else from them against a tree. 

With the horses watered, fed, and line-tied in a stand of cedars, Chuck’s long-legs carried him quickly over to where Kid was beating the hides. “Names Chuck Brady.” 

“Mickey O’Toole,” Kid replied, taking the man’s hand. 

“Have the fillies exited the coach, Mr. O’Toole?”

“Just Mickey, and no, I was fixin’ to go get ’em.”

“I’ll do it,” Heyes said, “going to get our saddlebags, while I’m at it.” 

“Russ, there’s a poke under my seat with a bit of grub.” 

“I’ll grab it, too.”

Kid and Chuck watched Heyes approach the coach, then shaking themselves gathered the robes, taking them back inside the now warm cabin. 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Opening the coach door, Heyes leaned in, “Miss Penelope, Amelia, Elaina let me give you hand down.”

All three shook their heads, “We have decided we shall sleep right here,” Penelope said, very firmly. 

“You’ll freeze.”

“I do not believe we will.”

“Well, I know you will. You’ll freeze to death,” Heyes exclaimed and, with a sigh, hitched himself up in to sit on the floor of the coach. “What can I do to set you three at ease?”

They looked down at their gloved hands, each mouth drawn in a tight line. 

Heyes turned, squaring his back up to the doorframe and, leaning into it, he looked to the cabin snuggled between the bare aspen trees with the piping of smoke rising, drifting away. “Back home, my Mother always said, winter was her favorite time of year. It allowed us time to gather around the fire, to sing, tell stories and to be a family. She said, rest of the season kept us too busy planning for survival to enjoy being alive.” A soft smile caressed his face as he tilted his head back with his dark lashes covering his eyes, “She’d make cookies and hot cider. Boy, what I wouldn’t give to have some, right about now. My Ma had an awe-inspiring singing voice, all of us would sing together for hours. My favorite was ‘Tis a Gift but hers, funny enough, was Buffalo Gals.” He peeked at the women from under his lashes and saw they were listening. “She’d get Pa to play it on his guitar and we kids would dance with her. Crazy to think how seeing that little cabin over there, brings back such memories,” he hopped down to the snow. “Sure would feel better, if you three would come inside. I’m gonna climb up top now to fetch Chuck, Mickey, and my kits. Between us, we should have beans, jerky, and coffee. Sure won’t measure up to fresh-baked cookies and cider but, at least, it’ll warm us up.” He leaned his arms in on the floorboards he’d been setting on, “Sure, hope you’ll join us.” 

Stepping to the front wheel, Heyes climbed up, his baritone filing the air, “As I was walking down the street, down the street, down the street. A pretty, little gal I chanced to meet. Oh, she was fair to see.  
Buffalo Gals, won't you come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight. Buffalo Gals, won't you come out tonight, and dance by the light of the moon.  
I stopped her and we had a talk, had a talk, had a talk, her feet took up the whole sidewalk and left no room for me.  
Buffalo Gals, won't you come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight. Buffalo Gals, won't you come out tonight, and dance by the light of the moon.  
I asked her if she'd have a dance, have a dance, have a dance, I thought that I might have a chance to shake a foot with her.  
Buffalo Gals, won't you come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight. Buffalo Gals, won't you come out tonight, and dance by the light of the moon.  
I danced with a gal with a hole in her stockin', and her heel kept a-knockin', and her toes kept a-rockin'  
I danced with a gal with a hole in her stockin' And we danced by the light of the moon.  
Buffalo Gals, won't you come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight. Buffalo Gals, won't you come out tonight, and dance by the light of the moon.” Jumping down, loaded with bags, canteens and a shotgun, Heyes saw, Penelope, the obvious leader of their group standing in the doorway. He hadn’t realized how little she was until now. Setting down the gear, he held out his hands, “If you’re ready, I’d be proud to help you down.” 

“Mr. Graystone, how do we know we shall be safe? I mean, you seem very amiable and considerate. . .” She looked to the cabin, where his friend was standing in the doorway. “…both of you do.” 

“Miss Penelope, on the memory and all I hold dear of my Ma, I swear you ladies will be safer here with me than sitting in a church pew.” 

“You must think us rather foolish, traveling alone and all.”

“I make it practice, to never think too much of another’s business. Besides, my Ma would have tanned me good, for ever speaking discouragingly of lady.”

Heaving a timid breath, Penelope held her arms out and Heyes lifted her down, followed by Amelia, and Elaina. Picking up the gear, he half bowed to them, “Shall we?”

As, the three of them marched through the snow, Heyes began singing” Buffalo Gals, won't you come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight. Buffalo Gals, won't you come out tonight, and dance by the light of the moon.”

The women laughed and, by the time they reached the door, were singing along with him much to the amazement of both men inside. 

Taking on some of the gear, Kid leaned in close, “You really are a silver-tongued devil, aren’t you?”

Heyes grinned jubilantly, “It’s what our Ma’s always claimed.” And, slapping Kid on the back, he kicked the door shut.


End file.
